


I live

by alcohen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcohen/pseuds/alcohen
Summary: I doubt that anyone understands what my life is really like. I keep up with the appearances and, if asked, I smile and say that everything’s fine, although deep inside I know that my life is painted in two distinct colours: the colour of life and the colour of existence.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 7





	I live

It so happens that I live only when you’re around.

I doubt that anyone understands what my life is really like. I keep up with the appearances and, if asked, I smile and say that everything’s fine, although deep inside I know that my life is painted in two distinct colours: the colour of life and the colour of existence. And the bright, breath-taking colour of life only occurs on rare occasions; the rest of the time am content with simply existing.

“Damn, Harry, give me some space!” Ron exclaims, pushing me.

I exist when I march down the long hallways of Hogwarts. On the right there’s Ron, telling me what in his opinion Ginny and Dean are up to; on the left there’s a group of Hufflepuffs, planning a party. I exist when Professor Sprout explains the difference between the ordinary and the biting yarrow, and Neville is happy to help her replant the biting one into a bigger pot.

“Have you heard the rumours about Ravenclaw’s new strategy? I hope the chasers will keep up! You’ll have to be quick with the Snitch,” Seamus taps me on the shoulder, and I nod, pretending that I am fully following the conversation.

I exist when we play against Ravenclaw, because the seeker replacing Chang is clearly no match for her, so there is no challenge. It seems like I could give him a ten minutes head start – he’d miss the Snitch anyway. I exist when I follow the other Gryffindors to Hogsmeade for the weekly ration of Butterbeer. I am indifferent to the illegal Firewhiskey that Dean has managed to buy from some mysterious guy.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Run!”

The familiar voice and the green flash. I exist when I go to yet another encounter with Voldemort, my personal curse. Yes, even here I only exist, because to live and to die – and, most importantly, to be afraid of dying – in unbearable. So I exist when I look into the snake-like eyes while I hear my mother screaming in my head, because there is no way I can handle this if I let myself face it emotionally. Emotionally I will lose, so I play by his rules. I exist.

But – rarely – I do live.

“You ruined my shirt!”

An accusatory tone, of course. Your grey eyes reflect the light of the candle, and you act like you’re mad – I still can’t figure out why you enjoy pretending to be the victim so much.

I live when behind the condescending smirk in the hallway I – and I alone! – see real compassion. I live when you push me with your shoulder during the potions class - I know that you go through all the effort just to touch me. I live when we pick a demonstrative fight in front of everyone, and you can’t hit me, even though you know this will make you look like a coward.

“I’ll catch it this time! And don’t you dare tank the match!” you threaten me before the game.

I live during the game against Slytherin. What choice do I have? You’re glaring at me from across the pitch while I am just keeping my word and not giving in. I live when I feel your shoulder as you’re flying next to me, and this moment is important to you because you’re so close to winning, and to me – because you’re here. I will catch the damn Snitch anyway, and you will most definitely hold a grudge for the next week or so and curse me in the gloom of the night corridors.

“The scumbag let you go alone?!” you yell when I’m back from another fight, all covered in blood.

I have to gather the remains of my forces to explain you – again – that Dumbledore isn’t a scumbag, we have already discussed this. He has his reasons. I am tired of explaining, really. And you drag me to the Hospital Wing, giving me reproachful looks every five seconds, and when we’re there, you knock loudly and run away – no one can see us together, otherwise it’s all in vain.

“Do you give up?”

I live when you bend over me in the silence of the Slytherin dorm, where everybody except us is fast asleep. The tattoo writhes on your forearm, and the pupils of your eyes seem huge several inches away from my face, and I’m sure it’s not just because it’s dark. You bend over and kiss me again and again, without touching my lips. You’re playing with me, you pull those strings, and this is much more powerful than the Imperius curse. I live, and you smile with the corner of your lips, listening to me whisper, “I give up.”

I live, because you’re here with me.

I know that we’ll do it. We will kill Tom Riddle, the man who is poisoning our existence. We will be free, and then – then we can stop existing.

We will live.


End file.
